Lost Without You
by lucians
Summary: It all kind of happens so suddenly, blurred like smeared paint. One moment, she's laughing at a joke of his and the next moment, their tongues are quite literally becoming reacquainted with each other— and for the first time without remaining under the veils of their onscreen characters. (lucian, two-shot)


_**lost without you**_

* * *

It all kind of happens so suddenly, blurred like smeared paint. One moment, she's laughing at a joke of his and the next moment, their tongues are quite literally becoming reacquainted with each other— and for the first time without remaining under the veils of their onscreen characters. Heat and fire ignites in the dressing room, and on the door, there's a purple star and the name K. LUCY HALE ingrained into it with small, gold rhinestones. It shouldn't take a genius to know that the audible whimpers and groans coming from the other side of the door means that Lucy has company. The question was, _who_?

As the brunette snakes her fingers into the back of Ian's hair, she supports herself against the wall and lets him overtake her neck with delicate kisses, uncaring on whether he'll leave a mark. The two don't exactly know why or how the confidence to kiss each other arose, but the opportunity presented itself and all Ian wanted to do was reattach his lips against hers without hearing Leslie's cries of 'cut' and 'shooting's over, that's a wrap.' He's fulfilling his want.

But Lucy isn't sure why she's allowing him to continue something that'll only complicate their relationship. She holds the same type of passion in her touches as she does, but a mixture of hesitancy is meshed along. She loves him like she loves her stepbrother and her older sister; loving him any other way is a big no-no, although she knows she can't control what destiny may have in store for her. She's too immersed in the intimate activity that her thoughts float away.

As the door whips open, Ian promptly jerks away from his position pressed against her. A young blonde with a surprised expression stands before them.

"Oh, I-I'm so sorry for barging in like that," Sasha immediately apologizes, her big blue eyes widened in shock. "Mar just wanted me to remind you two that you guys have a scene coming up in five minutes on set eight. Again, sorry."

She isn't slow in the least to escape the dreadfully awkward situation. The door closes, leaving two flustered beings who exchange the same glances. They both can't believe the the past five minutes has happened.

But it just did.

—-—

Within the next few weeks, they can barely keep eye contact without that heat arising in the centers of their cheeks, not even during shooting. The directors and producers notice this sudden change in behavior. In fact, everyone around them notices this. The only people who are thoroughly in oblivion is Lucy and Ian.

Because of this strain in their connection, they begin to fall on the outs. Rarely do they exchange a few words outside of shooting and group reading. Ian strays towards the well-known and favored group on set— Ashley, Shay, Troian, and Tyler; while Lucy occupies her time with a more level-headed group of people — Sasha, Janel, Keegan, and Lindsey.

In due time, Lucy and Ian become strangers outside of work.

"Sasha," Lucy speaks one day as the two wander down the narrow halls to retrieve a snack from the vending machine, "you haven't told anyone about..."

As she lets her voice trail off, Sasha gives her a silent head shake. Her cheery, aqua-colored eyes darken at the mention of that day. "I would never. It's as good as erased from my mind."

Lucy nods. She doesn't know why it's so important to keep this piece of information under wraps, and to question herself any further would mean she'd have to recall those fateful seven minutes in heaven.

—-—

As she lays in her bed, she looks to her right and sees the empty space which she desperately longs for someone to fill up with an occupancy. Her mind enters dangerous waters at the thought of Ian being the one to snuggle her to sleep. She pushes it out right away, just like she's pushed _him_ out.

—-—

Friday night rolls around and Lucy's been invited to a secluded house party that the hottest of celebrities. Everyone but Sasha plans to go. Being eighteen meant she wouldn't blend in so easily, therefore she tends to stray away from social events that aren't connected to work. Lucy finds the perfect outfit to wear and drops by Shay's house to give her a lift like she asked.

The party is something you'd see in a typical high school music, with cliques in their divided places and crowds so huge you'd have to weave through just to reach a destination. Because of the limited space, Lucy keeps to herself in one location on the couch with her red solo cup in the palms of her hand until a tipsy Ashley bombards her.

"Goose, c'mere, " she motions as she tugs on her flower-printed blouse. "Don't be bored, come and let me introduce you to some friends."

And because Lucy doesn't want to continue to look like a loner, nor be by her lonesome self, she follows the blonde up the stairs and into a big room with a large group of celebrities in a circle. The only two she knows personally in the room are Shay... and Ian.

"This is Lucy," Ashley mentions as heads turn to look at them. "Make her feel welcomed. I'm going to go grab another drink."

The goal of getting drunk seems to be getting more clear for the blonde. She staggers to the door and slams it behind her. Lucy looks back at the crowd, who are too busy fixated in conversations of their own.

Ian is on the other side of the room, trying to keep up his conversation with the group of males, although he's struggling to when the beautiful woman who he's shamefully neglected stands around in an awkward manner. He frowns.

"Isn't she on your show, bro?" one of the guys ask. "She's smoking hot."

Jealousy arises, creating a burning lump in his throat, but because he's at no rightful position to shield him from any other guy, he keeps his mouth shut tight.

Lucy looks over at Shay, who doesn't acknowledge her presence. Shay's leaning into a guy with an appealing behind, grinning and flirting behind her long lashes.

"Are you just going to stand there?" asks a blonde with a teasing smile. Lucy jerks her head at the voice, witnessing a smaller pack in the corner. They appear laid back and chill. "Come over here."

She looks behind her to make sure she's the only individual standing before cautiously approaching her. The girl looks extremely familiar, and seeing Lindsey standing next to her dings a bell in her mind.

"Cassie?" Lucy questions as a smile grows on her face.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten who I am already!"

Cassie, a B-list celebrity with the heart of gold and the looks of an angel, introduces her to everyone. It doesn't take too long for Lucy to step out of her shell. She almost even forgets about the guy who she's been in a silent battle with.

Almost.

"Congratulations on your nomination, by the way," one of her new acquaintances, Chris, applauds as a charming smile tugs on the vertexes of his lips. "It's been so long that a woman who has actual talent is nominated. Most of the time, it's because of their looks and only their looks, but you're definitely the full package." He brings his cup up to his lips, keeping his eyes plastered on her.

"How'd you know about that?" Lucy inquires, feeling her face growing red. It's been so long since a guy, and a cute one at that, has thrown a spew of compliments her way in such a flirtatious manner.

"I saw your name on the the list," he answers. "I was nominated too. I also saw it on your Twitter."

She smiles. She's completely and utterly lost in Chris's eyes that she doesn't even feel Ian's intense gaze on her.

Ian contemplates advancing towards her and making the first move ever since their friendship came to a halt. Would it be selfish of him, to want to do so because other guys suddenly notice her? Was it wrong of him to want to be the only one that makes her feel loved and wanted?

For a while, he feels guilty. Lucy's eyes are glinting with such power and elation. It's been so long since he's seen that spark in her eyes. He's sure that his presence is the reason she hasn't been smiling as much.

He's a jerk, he's a coward, and he _knows_ it. She deserves better than someone who made a move on her, only to turn his back on her.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss!"

Ian, who is immersed in the captivating sight of Lucy, finally notices the man with the greasy blonde hair and odd face structure. His blood tips to a boiling point when he notices how close they are, and just exactly who these people are chanting for.

Right before his very eyes, he watches the two lock lips for a moment, with her hand on his chest and his hand on her back, too low for his liking. The sight repulses him. His legs react before his mind can. They whisk him out of the room to hurl his stomach's contents of vodka and Italian sub.

—-—

Lucy Hale and Chris Zylka are now acclaimed as Hollywood's newest couple. With her Southern Belle eske and his charming bad boy facade, they make it high up on the charts for hottest couple of the year.

For the first time in weeks, Lucy's decently happy. Chris employs that burning hole in her heart and showers her with gifts and presents. He gives her the attention she's longed for in a long time, but she's mindful of that pang that hits her when she hears Ian's name over the intercom at work or the flooding of his name written by intense fans on Twitter. It's something that twists her insides around and makes her heart race. She isn't able to comprehend what that odd feeling is, and quite frankly, she doesn't want the answer. Not when she's with Chris.

Ian's internally declared he'll never ever set his sights on again, up until the moment eyes meet the day after his self-pact. His breath collides with a nonexistent rock in his throat, causing him to lose his mental grip. He watches as her eyes keep its gaze on him before she slowly walks in the other direction.

He's sure that Lucy has given up on their friendship, but if he would've just followed her and heard her bone-chilling wails and watched the way her hands were buried in her face, his thoughts would have defied him utterly.

—-—

If you ever hear your name called over the intercom to be redirected to Marlene's office in an urgent manner, you should know well enough to run the other way. And that's just what Lucy would have done if she wasn't called along with Ian.

She strolls down the hall alone, but when she hears footsteps, she knows that Ian isn't too far behind.

Nothing has prepared her for what Marlene warns of in the seclusion of her office. She's the only person, besides Sasha, who has addressed the situation. The way Ian uncomfortably shifts away from Lucy on the couch only proves Marlene right.

"I don't like getting into your personal lives," Marlene clarifies, "nor do I want to. But what I do want is for you to put this tension aside and focus on putting all your efforts and that chemistry into Ezra and Aria. The viewers, the fans can detect the strain through that television screen. So, do you two need this office to talk it out or can you do it after shooting?"

While Ian keeps his lips sealed tight, Lucy frenziedly shakes her head. The speed of her mind is nowhere near the pace of her speech, which opens and closes every other second. Debating against Ian in front of her boss about their complicated relationship isn't exactly how she wants to spend her Friday afternoon. In hopes that the two will work it out without a type of supervision, Marlene lets them off with a warning.

"You don't really want to work this out, do you?" Ian asks her when they're in the halls, his voice bouncing against the high ceilings to create an echo effect.

Her throat begins to burn at the strain she's putting against it. She'll regret it later for the possible damage to her vocal chords, but it's needed to be done if she wants crying to be out of the picture. His question and the way he orders it; it irks her.

"It sounds like _you_ don't want to talk about it, so no," she argues. The wave of anger exists her veins just as fast as it came and she cuts to the left, taking the stairs all the way down to avoid another second with the male who irresistibly evokes so much emotion from her.

—-—

Three hours, two holes in the wall, and one bruised knuckle later, Lucy is found collapsed on the couch by Chris. The broody look in her eyes completely penetrate and shatter Chris's cool front. He dashes in front of her, _very_ well attentive to the odd holes in the wall, and pushes back the brown labyrinth of hair away from the indistinguishable parts of her face.

"Ia—"

She coughs abruptly, her eyes widening. She almost called out _his_ name, not her boyfriend's, the one that's knelt in front of her and making an effort to comfort her. Convincing herself that she only _almost_ slipped up because of the fact that he was all she could think about, she sits up and promptly presses her lips against his. Maybe she'll lose herself into his kisses and forget about Ian.

But she doesn't. In fact, it's the opposite. She finds herself comparing everything from his kisses and Ian's. While Chris seems to have a ton of expertise by the way he leads, Ian was all for giving and receiving — being equals, in other words. Chris's cheeks were rid of facial hair while Ian's stubble was quite prominent against Lucy's finger tips. Chris does one thing that Lucy likes, but Ian did things that drove her out of this world.

How is it possible that she can be completely furious with him for abandoning her and yet smile at the thought of him?

—-—

"You're in love with him," says Annie without hesitation. Lucy looks at her best friend, completely appalled with her words.

"I pour out my heart about how much I _despise_ Ian, and you tell me that I love him?" she questions, shifting her leg from underneath her and hanging it over the couch. "I think you've had too many Piña Coladas for the night."

Annie defensively clutches her slightly alcoholic beverage against her chest, eyeing the stacks of cups on the table with every drop completely downed.

"I'm serious, Goose. You just went on this rant about his lips and you haven't said a word about Chris except for 'he's cute.' What else am I supposed to think?"

Lucy lets out a sigh of frustration. She contemplates other solutions, but all of the arrows point to the theory of the considerably intoxicated blonde in front of her. The woman is a genius and admittedly always right, but not this time. Lucy refuses to believe it, to prevent anymore heartbreak.

And, so what? What if she is in love with him? It wouldn't matter. They'd still go on with their lives with this thick tension that even the sharpest of knives wouldn't be able to slice.

"Talk to him," Annie urges, kicking her friend's knee gently from the other side of the couch. "Tell him everything you just told me. Explain it in depth. In that moment, you'll see how you really feel."

Their stares lock for a moment, exchanging a vibe that only two in such a close friendship can understand. With another melodramatic sigh, Lucy stands up, bids her adieu, and exits her friend's apartment. There is no way she's going to talk to Ian so willingly. Annie's failed to realize this, but Lucy isn't. She feels that, in her heart, she doesn't need Ian, completely neglecting that part in the extent of her heart that fluttered every single time Annie spoke her mind. Because maybe, tipsy best friends know the most.

At least, Annie does. Her theory is on point.

—-—

The most simplest of plans cannot hold a victory unless the owner has a source of confidence, and Ian learns this more quickly than slowly. Every time he crosses paths with Lucy, he clamps up and averts his eyes away from her spellbinding, green orbs, only to scold himself once she's out of sight.

Never in a million years would Ian guess that the remainder of their second year of shooting on set would result in such uneasiness and distress between his fellow coworker, and the woman that unknowingly held his heart tightly within her hands.

So, when they cross paths once again in the dressing room halls, he knows he has to seize his opportunity. His body cuts through her path, blocking her off.

"'scuse me," she says, quiet enough so Ian almost doesn't catch it. He's so close to moving out of the way and letting her get what she wants, but—

"Can we talk?" he asks, pushing out the words by ultimate force. Just saying a sentence gives him a sentiment of self-composure. He watches as her big, doe-shaped eyes continue to stare right into his chest. She is a head shorter than him, yet somehow she has the fire to dismay Ian.

"_You_ can talk," Lucy tells him. Her tongue trails to her upper lip, swiping lightly at it before flipping the flyaway strands of hair away. As soon as their eyes affix on one another's, all of Ian's poise suddenly trickles out of his body like a waterfall. They are eyes that serve the purpose to swoon someone, he realizes, despite the slight spark of damage that lies about.

"Well, I— I just wanted to tell you..." his voice is slow and steady. He tries to keep it as humble and composed as he possibly can, but it's difficult when he's on the verge of breaking underneath her stare. "You mean everything to me. And I'm sorry for being such a coward and a jerk. I didn't kiss you because I felt like it. I kissed you because I felt— I _feel_ something for you."

Any indication of maliciousness liquefies from her eyes, but this look is much more confusing to Ian. He isn't able to decipher what it is, besides the shock.

"I'm really disgusted with myself," he ends, "and I know you'll never accept, but I truly am sorry. I lo—"

He cuts himself off before he can dig himself into another hole. He can't tell her he _loves_ her; it defies the whole point of apologizing. He's trying to bring her closer to him, not push her away. He won't put that burden on her. It's best if she doesn't know.

He clears his throat quickly, giving the illusion that he choked on his words. "I hope you'll forgive me, whether it's in a day or a month or a year."

Without thinking, he brings his hand to the back of her head and presses his lips on the top of her head. His heart constricts in his chest and races fast, so fast that he's _positive_ she can feel it emitting from him. In the ten seconds that he has her in his hand, she doesn't budge. In fact, he's sure she's holding her breath.

He pulls away and slides by, timid to even look at her reaction. What he has to say is now off his chest, and he's determined to live peacefully.

But he knows that, as long as Lucy isn't by his side, he won't be able to get rid of this anxiety that streams through his veins.

—-—

He knows that whatever he feels inside has to be bottled in. He can't risk telling her how he feels in depth. He can only tell her about the type of connection he has with her. Insinuating that he wants something more is absolutely selfish on his part. She has Chris, the Hollywood star who is rumored to be a jackass behind the scenes. Ian definitely takes that rumor as a true statement, as biased as it sounds.

He looks down into his palms, where his phone is. On the screen is a strip of the last text messages between Lucy and Ian, the day before their feverish kissing commenced. It's a pointless conversation, much like all the rest of their exchanges. Those are Ian's favorite type of dialogues between the two. It's where he would show the goofy, playful side of him a little more. Lucy even admitted once that she was more enticed with that part of him.

He grins, but there's no source of happiness that should blend in with a smile. There's no sadness either. It's just _dead_.

Like his spirit.

—-—

Just when Lucy thinks that everything is going better than okay in her life, Ian's apology—and confession— shatters all of her willpower. She goes back to putting all of her efforts in putting on a strong and vibrant front when all she really wants to do is tell Ian that she accepts his apology and that everything is going to be okay.

But her damn pride won't let her. It's forcing her to stay cool, calm, and collected to show Ian that _she doesn't need him anymore_. In reality, Ian is all she wants, and she feels guilty of saying that when she already has someone new in her life.

It turns out that Chris's days to spend time with Lucy begin minimizing, just when she needs him the most. One day, he's off to an interview to talk about his new movie and his new girlfriend, and the next day he wants to go into the city to hang out with a few guys. If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed that he was getting bored of her or her purpose of being the gold trophy to his career is fulfilled and now she's only there to promote him.

As much as she hates admitting it, she can grow quite attached to someone in a matter of weeks, and given that, she forces herself to grant him space. What she doesn't know is how much space she should throw without it being _too_ much.

He goes two days without texting her. Two days become three days, which become four, which eventually become a week without contact. By then, she knows it's time.

In an instinct, her fingers jet to Ian's name on her 'favorites' list. She hasn't taken his name off yet and she doesn't know why. It's better not to ask questions, right?

She shakes her head, knowing that she was actually wrong. Not asking questions was taking the easy road out.

"Luce, hey," Chris answers with an appalling amount of nonchalant, as if they had already chatted the day before. Does he really have so much going on? Or is she looking into it way too much? Is there any chance that _she's_ the paranoid one?

_No_, that part in her brain reminds. She isn't going to pin any blame on herself. She lets her scoff be heard through the phone. "You remember my name?"

"Look, I know you're probably mad at me," he launches, his deep voice sounding even more soothing than normal. That, along with the laughter in the background, gives her an odd vibe. "I've been busy, you know? Being a st—"

"Are you drunk?" she suddenly accuses. She can hear it within his lack of articulation.

"Sorta," is his only response, his only explanation. She's becoming more frustrated by the second. They're barely on their third month of dating and they're already falling off. Lucy hates this feeling of vulnerability, like she can't do anything about it.

She hangs up hastily, and the realization of that conversation hits her. _They just had their first fight_ and he wasn't even sober enough to acknowledge it.

Jerk.

—-—

She gets _the_ text sometime at six in the evening later that week, just when she hears rain pattering against her windows, a rare occasion in the city of angels. It's from Ian.

**_Meet me at City Center?_**

She takes her dearest time giving her reply. Her head and her pride demands she doesn't go, while her heart insists she should. Overall, seeing him beats sitting at home and lazily strumming at her guitar, so she answers with a quick yes and gets dressed.

She's out the door in minutes, but her nerves go on full overdrive when she almost bumps into someone in front of her. A shriek escapes her laugh, followed by a deep laughter that surely isn't hers. She raises her head, recognizing a familiar face she hasn't seen in almost two weeks.

"Chris? What are you doing here?"

Her voice is defensive yet poised. It's the worst time for him to be there. It's time they take a break and see other people, anyways. Maybe now is the perfect chance to slip it in before she meets Ian.

Chris slips something from out of his pocket— a small, black box. Lucy's eyes widen, giving him the look of bewilderment.

"Don't you dare get down on your knees," she forces.

"Oh god, no Lucy," he chuckles as he opens the box. Instead of a ring like Lucy's expecting, her eyes are almost blinded by the shiny pair of silver earrings. The size of her eyes slightly condense, but not by much. They're small and beautiful and—

"Diamonds?" she breaths deeply, accepting the box and examining them sufficiently.

"As a way to say I'm sorry," he informs.

She can only imagine the price of this, and if her captivation didn't beat out her sincerity, she'd give them right back. She leaps and wraps her arms around him, using it as a way to show her gratitude.

"Thank you, thank you," she says in between kisses.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" he asks after they hug again, his face buried within her hair. It reminds her of Ian, which also reminds her of how quickly he became rid of her thoughts just by a simple gesture, such as her boyfriend giving her earrings.

"Yeah, that's exactly what it means."

"Then, come on. We'll go on a date and celebrate."

Guilt sinks into the pits of her stomach. Is it in her best interests to go with Chris when she's promised Ian she'd meet up with him? She's already wasting precious time standing around, so a choice has to been made _this second_.

"Actually, I'm meeting up with a friend," Lucy wavers, pulling away to meet his levelheaded expression.

"Tell her to come along," he suggests, grasping her hand and intertwining their fingers together like rope. "You can't ditch me, not tonight. We should go buy disguises and sneak into my movie and see if we get recognized."

Although she isn't really up for it and is quite reluctant to have fans signal their whereabouts to the infamous paparazzi, she complies and allows him to lead the way to his car.

She thinks about Ian the entire ride through. Her thoughts are so deep, it takes Chris more than once to capture her attention. It seems to her that the way he frowns illustrates how Lucy is one of few women that don't fawn over him and hold a grip onto each and every word of his. Is that why he goes out with her? She wonders, maybe she was attached to him before his week hiatus and he grew disinterested. Maybe he finds her as a chase, a game.

As she pulls her eyes blink away from a deep fantasy, she sees something that engrosses her attention completely. It's barely visible beneath the pouring rain, but she sees the vivid, intensely hued colors of City Center. In front of a fountain with pink shooting liquid and bright streetlights that border the corner, her eyes almost pop out of her sockets. Shaking her head, she relieves the doubt that rakes away at her mind.

_It's not him, it's not him_.

As they circle around, the small figure of grey gets closer, and it's then that they meet eyes. He appears dazed to see her in a car that isn't hers, and more importantly, that drives away from him. She can't bear to see the sight of the rain attacking his tall stature, but his piercing blue eyes are what draws her in until he no longer exists in eyesight.

_I'm sorry_, she mouths, even though he isn't there to see it.

**Yay or nay to this two-shot? Please let me know what you think of this chapter and if I should work on the second part or not!**


End file.
